


The Flowers

by Semi_Weird_Shipper



Category: Halloween (2018), Halloween Movies - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Building trust, Cannibalism, Caretaking, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hannibal is trying to help, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, Michael Needs a Hug, Mild Gore, Multi, Murder, Opening Up, Possessive Behavior, Suspense, You are scared, You have a broken leg and burn wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-05 00:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17908766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_Weird_Shipper/pseuds/Semi_Weird_Shipper
Summary: You were in a accident that left you with a broken leg and burn wounds. After going out to pick flowers in front of your rehabilitation center, you come across some mysterious man in a white mask who murders your nurse and then... He comes after you.(Story adopted by Semi_Weird_Shipper).





	The Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Basically in this story you have burn marks, a broken leg and you like flowers. More will be explained throughout the story as it goes along. Depending on viewers and how the story plays out, I'll decide if Hannibal has a serious _intimate_ role in this. But we'll see! 
> 
> (This story is abandoned. So my friend Semi_Weird_Shipper is adopting it onto her account so in a way it can still be read. Sorry for the inconvenience.)

You were being pushed down the hallway in your wheelchair which was uncomfortable in ways that stressed your back, but at least the cast could come off within the next two weeks. A breath giver honestly. You were tired of being cooped up in this rehabilitation center, and although you were treated kindly and with respect, you wanted to get on with your life. But you must admit, the support had really helped, especially with your troubled thoughts about your new look.

The scars. How could anyone want to even glance at your face after what happened? The thought made you more wilted and depressed and that only provoked you to wanna stay here forever.

"Well (y/n), Lukas, where do you two think are going?" Asked a nurse knowingly at the front desk of the entrance.

You smiled behind your handkerchief and chuckled, "Nothing like that."

"We were just going to pick flowers again," the nurse behind you confirmed with a faintly annoyed sigh, "As if the collection she already has isn't good enough."

You pulled a face under your handkerchief, about ready to say something in return for Luke's rude behavior, but the nurse at the desk beat you to it.

"Luke, be nice will you? It's misses (y/n) last month here," the nurse smiled at you and you nodded in return, "Let her pick flowers if she wants to. I think it's a great inspiration for her condition, and speaking of which, you really need to take off that handkerchief, honey."

Your only response was to frown, and you pulled puppy dog eyes, hugging the light pink vase in your lap close to your chest. You weren't the biggest talker since the incident, but you still communicated great through expression.

"Well she's keepin' it on no matter what you try to do, so I'd just leave it be," Lukas said very dryly as he began pushing you to the automatic slide in doors.

"Well ok, have fun you two," the nurse hollered, "Make sure to pick me some flowers too, honey, I want a nice, little stack of them on my desk when you get back, ok?"

You threw her a thumbs up and nodded before disappearing out the door, the nurse pushing you not being so mindful of speed or large bumps. Lukas was, in your opinion, extremely intolerable for he always had something rude or smart to say and never initially supported you. You could only wonder what brainiac decided him fit to be a health care nurse at this place.

"So how far you making me walk today, huh?" he asked in a tone you recognized to be boredom and annoyance.

But after six months, you learned to not care about it anymore. "To the fire lilies," you answer and adjust your sunhat atop your head as you gazed out past the crowded parking lot into the field beyond.

Luke sighed irritably behind you and started pushing your wheelchair in the correct direction. "Don't you think you have enough fire lilies inside? Why can't we just go next door and pick some dandelions or something?"

You didn't say anything, only rolling your eyes at his complaints.

It was hard nowadays to see things. Your left eye had lost its beauty and color in the fire as well as the whole left side of your face. The burns had mostly healed but were sensitive to the touch. You didn't like them, but knew that you'd have to live with them for the rest of your lonely life.

The burn marks raked down your entire chest and left arm, stopping shy of your waist. The last two fingers on your hand that was once broken were bent at odd angles and ached every so often. And then there was your leg, broken at the fibula after the entire impact of the crash.

You had lost everything then; your cheap apartment, your clothes, your food and money and even the last person you loved. Everything was gone and you had nothing left.

Little did Lukas know or care to know, but you were collecting these flowers for something very important and needed all you could get. Because to you, it was all about the flowers anymore. Nothing else.

After waking up a week later in the hospital, you had been devastated to learn the entire length of the tragedy that followed after the full extent of your damage. You cried for nights in pain and anguish, despising the world for what it's done to you and all the others that you loved. There was nothing left. And honestly, that's all you could really think about is how there was absolutely nothing left for you in this cruel world.

Well... Besides flowers.

"We're here, mistress," Luke brought you to a harsh stop and stepped away, reaching into his pocket to pull out a lighter and cigarette, "Hurry up. I wanna leave by the time I finish this."

Again you roll your eyes at his insignificance and wheel yourself over to the grassy plains of the endlessly clear field before you. It was beautiful. You gaze at the morning scenery and smile, wishing deeply that maybe reality could seem as wonderful as it looked.

Grabbing your vase and lifting it out, you came to a stop beside a good, healthy batch of fire lilies along the sidewalk and began to gently pluck them one at a time while your good-for-nothing nurse hid behind the willow tree. It was warm out, the fresh spring air tickling your hidden nose with pollen and warmth.

"Tick tock," Luke hollered and you glared as you ever so slightly quickened your pace.

As you hear his scuff of impatience, you grab a handful of flowers and pull them out of the ground and holler back, "I'm hurrying, ok, no need to blow a fuse now while you're building up cancer in your lungs."

"You little son of a bitch," he said, but you pretended not to acknowledge him and he huffed, taking another drag off his cigarette and shaking his head, "What do people even see in you?"

That's what you'd like to know.

You were turning bright red in anger and humiliation underneath your handkerchief as you filled your vase up with flowers, almost ready to go back inside. You hated Lukas, you really did, but they had no one else to assign to you so you just dealt with it, only speaking when it was truly necessary but still sometimes you could get a little carried away...

"Hurry or I'm leaving without you," he warned, his tone full of spite and anger as he put out his cigarette.

You groan, pulling one more flower and putting it in your vase before seating it on your lap. As you got ready to turn back, your wheels caught on something and you jerked, trying to loosen the force but it was stuck. Looking back behind you at the wheels, you saw the tall curb and hollered, "Lukas, my chair is stuck, will you _please_ come help me."

As you struggled to get back over the curb, eerie silence lapsed around you and made you feel confused. "Lukas?" you call and look back towards the tree, seeing nothing but it's thick branches and lush green leaves swaying gently in the wind, "Hello, Lukas? Are you there?"

You did a quick once over and checked to make sure he didn't stubbornly start walking back to the rehab, but you could only make a confused huff at seeing that Lukas was no where to be seen. So you looked back at the last place you saw him.

"Lukas, hey, please don't be a jerk, ok, I don't feel like fighting right now," you said clearly and shook your head, "I just wanna go back inside."

Truthfully, you'd rather stay out here and pick flowers for a while, but you knew that the insufferable impatience of your nurse limited your time and left you struggling while enjoying your own personal habits.

" _Please_ ," you draw out in a dramatic, frustrated way, now getting vaguely annoyed by his selfishness.

"H-he... lp," there was the smallest sound of a voice wheezing and a choked gargling noise that made you quickly look back at the tree.

And just in time. Luke's body fell sideways to the ground from behind the tree, his blue vest torn open and gushing with blood. His body was silent, unmoving and...

You screamed in horror, your one good eye enlarging as you tried taking it all in until a large figure emerged from the other side of the tree and made you gasp. It was a man, a man wearing heavy dark jeans, a dark blue jacket, roughed up boots and a haunting white mask. But what really got you was the steak knife dripping with small, timid droplets of blood as the stranger clutched it in his hand.

You gasp again, a broken sob more or less, and grab the wheels to your chair, pushing them with all your might. "Please!" you gasp as you tried pulling yourself onto the curb, flowers falling to the ground in your desperate attempt to flee.

Glancing back hurriedly, you screamed again when you saw that the masked man with the sharp knife was approaching you. Slowly.

"Help!" you screamed at the field, head going in all directions as you banged your chair against the concrete to try and get it to rise. One look behind you confirming that he was getting closer, "Help-help! Somebody help me! Help me please, I-ahh!"

Upon seeing him only feet away from your vulnerable stance, you did the only thing that you could think of.

You ran.

After ripping yourself out of the chair, you ran, limping harshly and crying out sharp gasps of pain as you put pressure on your wounded leg. Tears stained your face, your handkerchief fell down and your hat flew off as you limped through the field. Overworked breathing made your chest ache and tear apart in despair and you choked in need for more air.

And although you were terrified and wounded and thought your heart was going to bust, you still had to look behind you, your eyes going wide as you gasped and tripped over your own wounded leg.

Screaming, you fell side first into the grassy ground and sobbed in pain. You nearly wailed, reaching down to clutch at your leg as you cried in agony.

A shadow loomed over your beaten form, blocking out the sun and you gasped for the millionth time, trying to scoot back but your leg prevented much movement at this point. Looking up at the man, you cried and sobbed and whined as you saw his knife mirroring your fate within his own hand.

"Please..." you whimper and leaned back, clenching your eyes shut as you waited for pain or death to come. Your chest tightened at the thought of dying so brutally now before you got to achieve any of your goals, and you cried harder at the mentally aching torture.

After a long moment, nothing seemed to happen and you wondered if the deranged masked man had already murdered you. Bravely, with all your might, you tore open your eyes and immediately wished that you hadn't.

The man was kneeling right in front of you, his knife still clutched tightly in his hand.

You made a startled cry at this and tried scooting back until his hand lifted and made you flinch. Ducking your head and covering your face, you panted, waiting for whatever pain he may try to force on you as you cowered behind your weak protection.

Upon feeling something touching your forearm, you sobbed and lowered your head, snot pouring down your face as you buried it in your right arm. What felt like rough hands wrapped around your other arm and pulled it away from your face making you whimper.

Maybe he wanted to see your face while you died? Maybe he wanted to see the fear and pain in your eyes as he cut you open? Or maybe, since you were a female, he wanted to do _other_ things...

The last thought made you pulse with a sudden hope. If the stranger wanted that then maybe he would be repelled by your appearance. Or maybe he'd just kill you for not being attractive enough.

Either way, he was going to win no matter what. So when you lifted your head back up, whimpering and sniffling as you pointed your red swollen eyes at the murderer, you were surprised to see that the knife was gone and he was now lifting his other hand to your face.

Choking, strangling and broken necks popped up in your head and made you cry in distress.

Head lowering as tears fell down your wet face, you waited and waited for any sort of pain, flinching again when the man's hand touched your cheek, but the pain never came.

Instead of stabbing, choking or other horrid things, cool, calloused fingers ran down the side of your cheek where the skin was a dark shade of red and bumpy from the old burns. They were gentle, running over your cheek, nose, and milky eye.

You sucked in a sharp breath and tried looking at him, but there was nothing to see past those dark black holes, your lips wobbling as he traced them.

What on earth was he doing?

"P-please d-on-don't hu-urt me," you stutter between shaky breaths and gasps. His head lifted and you winced, hoping that he wouldn't hurt you.

The masked man pulled his hand away from your face and slowly went to grasp your other arm. You squirm, eyes squinting as more tears leaked out, whimpering as you realized that he wouldn't be letting you go any time soon.

"Please," you gave it effort though, "Please, I-I won't tell anyone! P-please let me go, I-I won't tell, I promise! I-mhp!"

You jerked when something from behind wrapped around your head and a damp rag was held over your mouth as the masked man kept your arms held still. But you flail anyway, arms trying to yank away from their rough captors, legs squirming in an attempt to scoot away and head shaking harshly from left to right. Whoever was behind you was wearing a brown jacket but that was all you could make out as your muffled protests went ignored and life began to blur. Your sight turning into a mess of blackening waves.

Every breath stung and you knew it was because of the cloth over your face, taking everything you had inside and turning it against you till there was nothing left but pure darkness. 

 


End file.
